He thought it inadequate to tell all he had to say. He wanted to say more, tell her how deeply he cared.
But it was enough, she thought.
Well, he recited his poetry and picked up his socks. Mostly. Some of the socks went missing for weeks and she hated it when he did his own laundry because he did such small loads.
That was enough, she thought. But there were other things.
He made dinner each night. And made extra so that when he traveled, she'd have some home cooked meals. He snored, but he made good chicken marsala.
He made her laugh. A lot. He listened to his gawd-awful music much too loud and couldn't carry a tune in a large pail, but he made her laugh everyday.
He liked to feed birds and grow flowers, both of which he did for himself. He tracked dog poo into the house, but his "garden of birds" was a place of solace, peace and beauty.
He kissed her for no particular reason. And rubbed her back without being asked. Both of those were nice, real nice.
And he lowered the lid on the toilet.
Yeah, that was it. He lowered the lid after he peed. She got hot just thinkin' about it.